Refreshing a Tired Heart
by Vivienne Grainger - Bleach
Summary: Sometimes, the unexpected is the best tonic.


Tite Kubo's, not mine, not for profit.

Jyuushiro Ukitake looked up from paperwork with which he had persuaded his perpetually-quarreling Third Seats to part, so that he could actually do something while this traitor body he inhabited recovered from its latest bout of tuberculosis.

He felt lousy. So what. Business as usual. He could push papers.

He hated this weakness about himself. Hated it. It wasn't changing any time soon, so he was careful not to extend that hatred to himself. Still, it was a delicate and exhausting psychological balance to maintain, and was one of the reasons that he ate far, far more than a tall thin man could reasonably be expected to.

The other reason? The disease used up most of his oxygen, and oxygen is the fuel that burns food. Not enough oxygen means an inefficient food metabolism, means you need a lot more food to achieve simple weight stasis. Jyuushiro's nightmare disease was the wet-dream of dieters anywhere. Have another slice of that banana cream pie, no, have two, and let the tuberculosis burn the calories for you.

In his door, however, he saw the small figure of Kiyone Kotetsu, not banana cream pie. Just as delicious, from his point of view ... a viewpoint he tried not to take too often ... forbidden fruits, and so forth.

And there had been that young woman under his command all those centuries ago. He'd nearly gotten himself court-martialed over her ... not because he wouldn't send her out into battle, a course of action he longed for, but because to hide his affection for her, he sent her out on every patrol he could. When, finally, she was so exhausted she made a silly mistake and died ...

He'd been paralytic with grief and sake, drunk for weeks on end, matching Shunsui drink for drink ... until his friend realized what he was doing, and went sober with him.

It had been awful. He had sworn never to hurt himself, or others, like that, ever again.

And so when he saw a comely person in his Division ... he turned his eyes aside.

Particularly difficult when she worked with you every day, as Kiyone did. Still, he knew Shunsui didn't know ... and if Shunsui didn't, no one else did, either.

"Kiyone! Come in. Are you looking for Sentarou?"

Tiny, blond, and delicate, she entered hesitantly. "Actually, taichou, I'm looking to escape Sentarou."

Jyuushiro chuckled. "You're welcome to spend some time with me, but he'll be here sooner or later, you know." He poured another cup of tea, placed it so that she could sit facing him. When he saw the look on her face, though, he was quick with compassion. "What's going on?"

Kiyone sat, sighed. "I guess ... I guess I've come to my senses."

Jyuushiro arched a brow at her. "That sounds pretty serious."

She picked up her cup, held it with one hand underneath, breathed in the steam. "Wonderful," she said. "Shade-grown tea, isn't it?"

"Yes. Fewer tannins, a more flowery taste. –But you've come to your senses? What happened between you and Sentarou?"

"Oh, nothing between me and Sentarou, taichou, nothing at all. The usual stuff, the two of us fighting over who's best at this job. But today he set me to cleaning out old trunks" - Which is bloody impertinent of him, and something he and I will have to talk about, Jyuushiro thought - "and I found a photograph in there of you and taichou Kyoraku and Lisa and Kaien."

"Wow. That's gotta be what, a hundred years old?"

Kiyone smiled, and he was struck by her sadness. "Just about. You and taichou Kyoraku are sitting down, with Kaien standing behind you, Lisa behind him, with her hands on his shoulder. All of you are wearing formal kimono: she's in a furosode, actually."

Jyuushiro remembered the beauty of that kimono, a young girl's announcement that she was of marriageable age. "That was a very pretty furosode. Shades of green and pink, as I remember."

"The photo's in black and white." She paused for a moment, and he was again witness to a great pain tiptoeing across her face.

He said gently, "And the problem with this photograph is ... ?"

Kiyone put her cup down, and looked at him. "I wouldn't have seen it if I hadn't chosen to move the trunk to the front hall, where he's hung the bagua."

Sentarou was a big believer in feng shui. A bagua, an eight-sided mirror, was absolutely necessary in the front hall of the office, he insisted, to deflect incoming negative energy.

Jyuushiro wondered if this time it hadn't worked 'way too well. It seemed to be deflecting Sentarou's co-third seat. –Of course, that might have been his intention. "I'm not following."

"It was aligned just right, and I could see a reflection of my own face right beside the photograph." She looked at him expectantly.

He waited. Watched the most fetching of his subordinates reach for and find her courage.

She wasn't beautiful, but he didn't care about that: the geometry of her face exactly mapped out Jyuushiro's own heart.

She sighed heavily, shoulders moving up and down. "My character is not of fukutaichou caliber, taichou."

Jyuushiro walked into this minefield of feminine self-doubt with very, very light feet. "I'm not sure how you got this from a photograph, and a reflection of your own face."

She squared her shoulders, and looked him in the face, holding his eyes. "Kaien and Lisa both had a - quality in their expressions that I - don't have. Renji Abarai has it. Shuuhei Hisagi has it. Rangiku Matsumoto has it. Izuru Kira has it. Even Rukia Kuchiki has it. It's - " her shoulders dropped. "I don't know what it is. I do know that I don't have it."

Jyuushiro sighed. It was this stuff he had been given the rank of taichou to handle ... this and achieving the battle skills to keep himself alive long enough to get to bankai, actually ...

He returned her regard, making his gaze as calm and open as possible, and praying he wouldn't begin to cough up blood. "That's probably a true assessment, Kiyone."

Her eyes went wide, and she stared at him.

"Despite that," he said with a friendly dispassion, "you have the grit and the determination to reach the Third Seat position. Where are you in your quest for shikai?"

She reacted as he knew she would (this knowledge being the real reason they paid him the big bucks and gave him the snazzy haori). She pulled herself out of her quagmire of self-doubt, and said with her own calm dispassion, "I can't really say. Some days it seems very close to me, some days very far away. The days where it's close, I can almost hear my sword, but she hasn't told me her name yet."

"You have a feminine zanupakuto? That's fairly unusual."

She smiled, didn't reply.

Jyuushiro pushed beyond his perpetual fever to say, "Reaching shikai and bankai are not, of course, what determines that a person is or is not of the caliber to serve as a fukutaichou. You're correct in that you haven't developed this quality yet, nor has Sentarou. The other fukutaichou you mentioned have ... I'll have to keep an eye on Rukia, actually, I hadn't thought to keep track of her, although of course she does have shikai." He gazed at her for a moment, one of his favorite things to do, while he marshaled his thoughts.

And he saw her color, and look down. Careful, Jyuu, she's all to pieces ... "I know the place you are in right now is tough, Kiyone."

"You do?" she whispered, eyes flicking back to his, enormous.

"Of course. I've been there myself, although it was many centuries ago. The self-doubt you feel is in fact the precursor to becoming a fukutaichou. Without it, you won't have the capability of reflection that's necessary for shikai and bankai, and for leading others."

He watched what he said sink in. Sink past the pointless - and from his view, wearisome - sibling rivalry with Sentarou, past the self-doubt she had found in the bagua, past the childishness still clinging to her little frame. Jyuushiro watched Kiyone Kotetsu grow up right there.

"I ... see," she said, much more calmly. "It's not what I thought, then. It's more that I'm ... probably keeping myself from growing into being a fukutaichou, while I fight whatever battles I have to fight with Sentarou."

"I think that's a terrific self-assessment, Kiyone. Will you spar with me in a few days, when I'm feeling stronger? I've been remiss to let you walk this path alone."

"Of course, taichou."

"Good. Let's keep this from Sentarou for a day or two at least, shall we? It's not really something that's subject to ... competition, and for that reason it's fairly tiresome to see it reduced to that level."

'"Yes, taichou. Taichou?"

"Kiyone?"

She took a moment before she was able to meet his eyes. "When I leave your command, taichou ... will you come to dinner with me?"

"When you are no longer under my command, Kiyone, I shall accept your invitation with great pleasure," he said formally. And somewhere in his chest, his tired heart sang.


End file.
